


Restoration

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Post-Fort Drakon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 17:13:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6087850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sereda escapes from Fort Drakon, there's only one person she wants to talk to, even though she kind of doesn't want to talk to anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restoration

Zevran flits around the back of the room when she arrives back at Arl Eamon’s estate.  Sereda wonders if he can tell somehow, even though she’s covered in blood and by the scrappy armor that she had found in the prison where she was held.  Even though they weren’t apart for long, it’s a relief to see him again.  He’s home to her, and it’s been a long day.

Sereda is cagey with her answers when the Arl and Alistair ask about what happened, about her capture and eventual escape.  She just wants to return to her room.  There’s even a tub, and she plans on taking advantage of it so she can wash off the grime and blood from Fort Drakon. 

Once the Arl is done with her, she dodges Alistair.  He clearly wants to talk, and Sereda decides to selfishly wait until later to assuage his guilt.  She already knows what he’ll say, and what she’ll say, but she’s too tired right now.

She’s disappointed when she realizes that Zevran has disappeared somewhere.  Perhaps that’s for the best, though, at least until she’s clean and fully composed.

The walk up the staircase is a strenuous ordeal.  Human stairs aren’t her favorite thing- they’re too big to be comfortable on a regular day, and after the beating she endured in Fort Drakon, it’s excruciating. 

Finally, she makes it to her floor and then down the hall to her room.  Doorknobs are also irritatingly too high, and she grumbles about it as she pushes the door open.

Sereda almost doesn’t notice Zevran on her bed, until he pipes up.  “While we were not parted for long, time seems to move much slower when I do not get to see your beautiful face.”

Sereda tries and fails to come up with a witty remark, so she just shakes her head a little.  “I missed you, too, Zevran.”

His face is more serious than Sereda has ever seen it, and neither of them seems to know what to say.  Finally, Sereda breaks the silence, less because she knows what to say and more because she is too tired to stand here staring at Zevran forever. 

“I was going to take a bath, so if you’d excuse me,” Sereda says.

That’s enough to provoke Zevran into springing into action, even if it seems slightly forced.  He gets off the bed, but doesn’t quite approach her.  “I am quite talented when it comes to bathing.”

Her laugh is hollow, strained, but genuine.  “That’s quite a thing to decide to boast about.”

“Allow me to show you that it is no boast,” Zevran says.

“Maybe another time,” she replies easily, like it’s no big deal, like she’s not hiding anything.

“You wish to be alone?” Zevran asks.

“I just…” Sereda is so rarely at a loss for words, but now her voice comes to a halt.

“Do not worry,” Zevran’s voice is soft, encouraging.

She doesn’t know if he means about not being able to articulate her thoughts, about the bath, or about something else entirely.  Possibly all of it.

“I don’t want you to see me naked,” Sereda manages to spit out. 

Zevran takes a step closer, still far further away from her than when they usually speak.  “I have seen you naked many times, and hopefully I will see you naked many more times in the future.  Many of my favorite activities lead to nakedness.”

“This is different.  There were a few.  Unpleasantries.  In Loghain’s dungeon that you don’t want to see the results of,” Sereda says haltingly.  She didn’t even endure the worst of it, but she can still hear the screams.

“Nothing could make you less beautiful,” Zevran says, watching her closely.  “But if you wish for privacy, I will leave.”

“No going any further,” Sereda warns.  “I don’t feel up for our usual activities.”

“Of course.  As always, I will not take anything you are not willing to give,” Zevran says.

“Okay,” Sereda finally says, nodding just a little.  “I have to find someone to fill up the tub, but you can stay.”

“Ah, how excellent!  I have already had a bath drawn!” Zevran says, gesturing towards her private bathroom.

“You did?” Sereda asks.

“I _was_ going to take a bath by myself, but, as you are our heroine and the most beautiful among us, you should take it,” Zevran says.

Sereda knows the bath was for her, whether she let Zevran stay or not, and her lips just barely curve upwards.  “Help me get undressed?  Some of these clasps are bound to get stuck.  This isn’t high quality armor.”

“My pleasure,” Zevran says, finally coming close to her.  “Let me take care of it.  Do not trouble yourself.”

Sereda nods, stretching her arms out Zevran so can have access.  He’s gentle and focused as he starts working the buckles.  She does her best not to wince because she knows he’s being careful, but her torso and back are so tender that she can’t help but hiss.

Zevran is in front of her in an instant, kneeling down with concern written plainly on his face. 

“Don’t worry,” Sereda says, trying to look reassuring.  “Just a little tender.”

Zevran makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat that Sereda thinks is supposed to be casual but is anything but.  “I will be more careful.”

When the armor finally clatters to the floor, Sereda looks up to see Zevran staring at her.  His jaw is clenched, and Sereda realizes with a jolt in her stomach that he looks angry.  She knows that he loves her, no matter how he tries to brush such notions away awkwardly, but there’s something about seeing him look so angry on her behalf that warms her inside.

“You need to take your clothes off, too, or else it’ll be a terrible bath,” Sereda prompts. 

Zevran nods his head uneasily before stripping off his clothes quickly and letting her lead him into the bathroom.  She finds a surprise waiting for her when they enter her bathroom. 

“Is that a fire?  Around my bathtub?” Sereda asks, blinking.  She really doesn’t want to deal with her bathroom being on fire. 

“A warm bath is better than a cold bath, yes?” Zevran asks.  “I persuaded Wynne that you deserved a small luxury.  It will not burn you, and it will fade in time.”

“Is this your secret plan to finally assassinate me?  Boiling me?” Sereda asks lightly.

“Ah, you’ve caught me.  I suppose I’ll have to beg for my life again,” Zevran says, clearly trying to capture his usual lightheartedness.

He helps her get into the tub- another feature of her room that’s built for humans and not for dwarves- and she groans as she plops into the warm water.  She has to remember to thank Wynne for the fire because this is wonderful.

Zevran grabs the washcloth and soap from the edge of the tub before sliding into the tub, in front of her.  He wets the cloth and then starts by washing her face.  His own face is screwed up in concentration, as if he’s not sure that he’s doing this right. 

“I wish you had let us fight instead of surrendering,” Zevran finally says, as he moves to wash off her neck.  “It would have been much more fun.”

“I couldn’t,” Sereda murmurs, eyes half closed as her body has started to relax.  “It would’ve proved Loghain right, and it could’ve endangered Anora.  I knew that if I gave myself up, it would give you, Wynne, and Oghren enough time to get her out of there.”

Zevran starts to trail the washcloth down her collarbone.  “I am not certain that the tradeoff was worth it.”

“I figured I’d escape, and I did,” Sereda points out. 

He doesn’t say anything else, just concentrates on washing her.  Zevran even manages to wash off her chest without a lurid comment.  It’s slightly worrying.

After he washes off an arm, she reaches out with her now clean hand to stroke his face.  “I’m here, Zevran.  I’m okay.”

“I believe that I should visit my former employer,” Zevran says, not quite looking at her and concentrating very hard on washing her other arm.  “Depose him before the Landsmeet, and all of his men, too.”

“I don’t think that would help,” Sereda says.

“To the contrary, I believe it would make me a much happier man,” Zevran says. 

“But then who is going to help warm my bed tonight?” Sereda asks.  She’s only marginally worried that he’ll actually try to assassinate Loghain, but there’s no point in taking chances.  And she really would be lonely without him.

“An excellent point, although I am certain you could find another quite easily,” Zevran says.

“I don’t want another.  I want you,” Sereda says.

His face ever so faintly turns red, but he nods.  “Then, no assassinations tonight.”

Sereda relaxes as he finishes washing her front.  His fingers are so nimble and his hands are so strong, but he’s careful as he washes her.  This is a special kind of pampering, and despite the pain she’s in, she intends to enjoy every minute of it. 

“If you shift, I can wash your back and your hair,” Zevran murmurs some time later.

It’s easy enough for the two of them to rearrange themselves in the bathtub, as they’re both smaller than the tub’s intended occupants.  Soon enough, she’s leaning forward as Zevran runs the cloth up and down her spine. 

When he’s finished, he eases her backwards and takes a small bowl from the edge of the tub.  Using it, he starts to rinse out her hair.  This is particularly pleasant, his fingers running along her scalp as she sighs happily.  It takes a while, even though she keeps her hair short and practical, and Sereda suspects he’s taking longer than he really has to.  She certainly doesn’t mind. 

“I will leave you alone now, if you prefer,” Zevran eventually murmurs.

“Stay, please,” Sereda says, leaning against him. 

“Of course,” Zevran replies, wrapping his arms around her loosely. 

It’s comforting to sit there in the warm water, back against Zevran’s bare chest and head resting against his shoulder.  She can feel the tension strumming through every muscle of his body, but she decides to ignore it for now.  The relaxation is too nice to give up, and considering he’s not planning on murdering anyone tonight, they’ll have plenty of time to talk later.

Of course, the flame eventually goes out and the water starts to cool. 

“I think it’s time to go to bed,” Sereda murmurs. 

“I agree,” Zevran says.

They get out of the tub and she can feel Zevran’s eyes on her.  She walks back into the bedroom, where there’s a mirror. 

There’s bruising up and down her stomach, turning it black and blue.  She suspects her back looks pretty much the same.  It’s so ugly, but it’ll heal. 

“I know how you feel,” Sereda says, knowing that he’s still watching her.  She turns to face him.

“You willingly went into danger, by yourself, when we could have helped you,” Zevran says haltingly.  “It makes no sense.”

“I mean the sick, twisty anger in your gut.  The desire to crush someone, anyone, between your hands,” Sereda says.  Exhaustion hits her, so she walks slowly, achingly, over to pull some smallclothes on before sliding into bed.  “If it helps, most of the men who did this are dead.  They got in the way when I escaped.”

Zevran is still watching her, like he’s not quite sure how to proceed.  Actually caring deeply about someone outside the Crows is a new experience for him, she knows.  So she’s patient. 

“How do you know?” he eventually says.

“When my younger brother killed my older brother, I felt that way.  And when we were in the Fade- do you remember?” Sereda asks.

“It is quite blurry,” Zevran says.

The smile on her face is tight and false as she recalls, “I walked into your nightmare.  Two Crows mocking you as they stretched you on a rack.  You were in a lot of pain.  Still making witty retorts, though.”

“It is part of training,” Zevran says.

“So someone mentioned.  I was so full of anger- at the demon, at the Crows, and at myself.  I don’t know if you recall, but I turned into a stone golem and immediately crushed them.  That someone would hurt you made me so mad,” Sereda explains.  “I still get mad when I think about it.”

“You get mad whenever someone is hurt,” Zevran points out.

“Not like this,” Sereda counters.

“We had not even slept together,” Zevran says.

Sereda lets out a strained laugh.  “Why are you arguing with me about my own feelings?  But I cared about you even before we slept together, Zevran.”

Zevran sighs.  “All I could imagine was the terrible things they could do to you, and I knew they would do them.”

“They didn’t really get the chance because I escaped,” Sereda says.  “I wasn’t keen on finding out Loghain’s plans for me either.”

“But the bruising…”

“Ah, yeah, well, they had a little fun before shutting me in my cell,” Sereda says.  She tries to shrug like it’s no big deal.  “Kicking, punching, a little poking with some spears.  I’ve taken worse beatings from darkspawn, honestly.”

“There was something upsetting you very much when you returned.  It still is,” Zevran says.  “I don’t know what.”

“Will you come over here?  Please?” Sereda asks, patting the space on the bed beside her. 

Considering he’s still naked and wet, he must be freezing in the drafty castle.  She’s cold even under the blanket, so his body heat would be especially welcome.

Zevran nods and comes to bed.  He crawls in next to her, carefully wrapping an arm around her.  His touch is gentle, like he’s worried about breaking her.

“Tell me what is upsetting you,” Zevran says. 

Sereda sighs and closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to look at him.  “I like a fair fight.  I’ll fight a whole army, give me two swords and some armor.  But to be unarmed, almost naked, completely helpless and unable to fight back?”  She shudders.  “I don’t like it.  I’m a warrior; I fight and I kill things.  I don’t do helplessness.”

Zevran is quiet for a while, stroking her hair.  She’s surprised that he’s not tense like he was in the bathtub, but she’s not going to question it. 

“You are never helpless,” Zevran finally says.  “I have met many people, many of them were helpless, but you could never be.”

“I definitely was,” Sereda says.  “More helpless than I had ever been in my life.  Even when they locked me in the Deep Roads, they gave me a sword to fight with.”

“How did you escape?  Alistair said that you were already out of your cell by the time he and Morrigan arrived, so clearly they did not free you,” Zevran says.

She has no idea why Zevran wants to know, but she trusts him implicitly.  “I knew Loghain would want me alive, so I pretended I thought I was dying.  When the guard came in, I killed him and took his things.”

“Ah, mi amor, I see why you are confused about your helplessness now,” Zevran says, stroking her face tenderly. 

Sereda opens her eyes to look up into his.  “Now I’m curious.”

“You are used to thinking like a warrior, all brute strength and immediate results.  But you were acting as an assassin,” Zevran says, kissing her temple.  “Albeit an assassin taking out very small targets, but still.”

A smile tugs at Sereda’s lips despite herself.  “I don’t understand.”

“As an assassin, you must be willing to wait for the right opportunity.  Patience is key.  Sometimes this requires feigning helplessness to draw a mark in or to convince them to turn their back on you.  You did much the same thing, pretending and manipulating to your advantage,” Zevran says with a deep surety.  “I must say, I am impressed.”

Sereda turns that around in her mind for a minute, trying to figure out if he’s just humoring her. 

“I’m learning more from you than I suspected.  Thank you,” she eventually says. 

She’s thanking him more for soothing her feelings than anything else.  It’s a much better way to look at the situation, and it helps alleviate the dread she felt.  Maybe she wasn’t helpless, after all.

“Do not thank me!  You did all the difficult work,” Zevran says.  “Perhaps one day, we will be able to assassinate a slightly more difficult target than a prison guard.”

Sereda laughs.  “As much fun as assassinating someone with you could be, I think I prefer the bluntness of the battlefield.  It feels more… sure.”

“Then we are a perfect pair, you and I!  You can destroy whole armies singlehandedly, and I can sneak around and strike from the shadows while they stare at you in awe,” Zevran says, holding her closely.  “I will stare at you in awe, too, of course, but not until our enemies are dead.”

“We sound unstoppable,” Sereda murmurs, smiling up at him. 

“We are,” Zevran says.  “And I see your smile has returned.  How beautiful.”

“Thanks to you,” Sereda says. 

“I am glad to be of service,” Zevran says. 

Sereda leans up to kiss him softly, running her fingers along his jawline.  He fills her with so much joy and safety.  Even though she’s been topside for a few months now, it’s still overwhelming, but it feels better with him beside her.

She wants to tell him that she loves him, but today has been enough of an ordeal for the both of them.  While she took the earring he gave her, which she knows they both considered a commitment of sorts, she knows that he still feels uncertain about admitting his actual feelings for her.  It doesn’t bother her because she knows how he feels.  She’s been betrayed by people who loudly claimed to love her before, so she knows the value of genuineness over words. 

Zevran’s lips are soft against hers as they kiss, and true to his word, he doesn’t press her for more.  When they pull apart, she nuzzles her face against his neck.  He rests his cheek against the top of her head, arms holding her tight now.

The pressure causes a slight pain in her back and ribs, but it doesn’t matter.  It’s the good kind of pain, the kind that reminds that you’re alive.  That you’re mortal, but still so alive. 


End file.
